Traditions

Years spent on

Droning hymns

At Sunday school

(Our Father, son and holy ghost)

Prostrate on

Orders culled

From ancient rule

(Dont tell them where old hands may go)Just sit down

And shut up and dont think

til we turn you on

Just sit down

And shut up and dont speak

Cause theres nothing wrongHonor codes

Carved in stone

With blood and bone

(Lost on their Fields of friendly strife)

Its not enough

To say you

Just dont know

(How dare you come through it alive)Now raise a

Picket fence

And settle down

(Its time you found yourself a life)

Youre much too

Old to sit and

Play the clown

(You have no right to feel alive)